Alluringly Minty Fresh
by munching muffins
Summary: -6959, MukuGoku - "Hayato-kun, this cake has mint in it. Are you saying Sawada has foul breath?" That illusionist wasn't adding extra mouthwash for nothing. Fluff. Oneshot.


**Alluringly Minty Fresh**, a 6959 fanfiction

_by Jasune Hokairi_

_Disclaimer: KHR by Akira Amano _

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Out of all places to hide, it had to be _here_.

Sure enough, it's only a few days away from Sawada Tsunayoshi's odd birthday. By standards of Vongola, every odd birthday of a mafia member had to be celebrated in the most exaggerated –in Mukuro's point of view –way possible.

Since he just broken out of prison at the most inappropriate time, he needed a new place stay. He couldn't go to Kokuyo Land, where Chrome, Ken, and Chikusa were hiding, due to the excuse that it would be obvious hiding place for him. Sawada's house is also out of the question, the Arcobaleno would have him join the festive of the once in a lifetime celebration and the illusionist would have none of that.

The swordsman's house might be in order, what with the 24/7 food service, except that it was public and popular enough to be crowded around lunch hour and dinner rush to make the costumer stare at him dumbfounded due to his blood red eye. Having a unique physical was not an advantage in this situation.

Sasagawa's house was pretty normal. Much less the idiot boxer could handle himself sometimes –please emphasis the word 'sometimes', thank you. The problem lies with his sister's friend who often stayed in the house. That one girl who always shouted 'hahi' had him to try her cosplay costumes the last time they met and he was out of there within two seconds flat. In case you were wondering, there were no high school uniform cosplays.

The Namimori prefect's was a definite no. No, just no.

Hence the last option was the Storm Guardian's. Sure enough he would reject him within the second he saw him, there would be indoor explosions –the silverette wasn't called short-tempered for nothing –and he had somehow learned that the wannabe right hand man was an occult fanatic, but he can live with that. At least he wasn't hard on the eye. In fact, he was a sexy eyecandy.

The dark haired man suckled his breath and ringed the doorbell of the apartment. He was ready for this. He had every line rehearsed in order to persuade him, checked on his appearance –he knew Hayato would ridicule him of he dared to come looking like a hobo-, and double checked his teeth just to make sure he didn't any scrap of food left in his mouth, with an extra amount of mouthwash.

An opportunity to seduce was in order, especially in condition of a sexy olive-eyed pianist.

A set of clinking sound was faintly heard. The lock on the door turned with a loud 'clack' and there was Hayato Gokudera with all his sexy appearance –again, in Mukuro's opinion.

Scratch that. It was Hayato Gokudera, _in an apron_, with all his sexy appearance.

Mukuro could only blink. And blink.

Silence.

More silence.

Crickets in the background.

"Don't you dare say a word about this." The illusionist promised himself he wasn't going to. He only wished he had brought along his camera.

"So," Gokudera trailed, snapping the older man out of his reverie. "what are you doing here?"

"Oh that, I was wondering if you'd let me stay for a few days. Kufufufu, at least with me here, you'd have some company."

"Sorry, I have work to do."

"In _that_?" Mukuro pointed his finger to the apron.

Sure enough, the apron was quite short to show off a good portion Gokudera's jeans-hugged thighs. The heterochromatic man has always been entranced by the bomber's legs, after all, so it's hard not to stare. He had to say, Hurricane Bomb looked adorable in said skimpy material.

The thought of making him wear a high school girl uniform had passed somewhere in between.

"I-I was making a chocolate cake." The silverette stuttered slightly, careful not to provoke Mukuro into making a jest about him.

"Oh, can I have some? Who knew my little storm was capable in cooking, ne? By the way, you sort of smells like kiwi."

"Who said you could come in? Hey, don't just slice that cake!"

Mukuro had let himself in and grabbed a spoonful of the sweet delicacy. "I assume this is for Sawada, yes?"

Gokudera blushed slightly and turned his head away as he put the pineapple haired bastard's belongings in a room. So much for not letting him in. "Yeah, it's for the Tenth. Why do you care?"

"Hayato-kun, this cake has mint in it. Are you saying Sawada has foul breath?"

"Of course not! It's my own recipe! Now go mooch some other food in the fridge. This cake is not for you."

As the lime eyed pianist snatched the cake away, he had forgotten to wipe the mess he made on the floor. Hence he slipped on the frosting lying innocently on the marble floor and splattered the cake onto himself. Mukuro had to stifle his laugh –and inner thoughts thinking that a clumsy Hayato is an even more adorable Hayato.

Gokudera blushed even harder when he brushed the chocolate icing on Gokudera's face with his finger and brought it to his lips, licking enthusiastically. The motion was enticing to say the least.

"A little better. Could use a bit of pineapple. What's your secret ingredient, kiwi?"

Within fifty milliseconds flat, the illusionist lay flat against the counter. He knew being exploded by dynamites hurt, the silverette tsundere always throws ten times more than he usually does around him.

He never knew Gokudera was the type who hits with a frying pan when dynamites weren't around.

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Hey, I'm back. Sorry it's so short, I have a cold and couldn't think much. Hope you like it!

Ciaossu~! RnR please!


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